Take What You Can
by Pirate Lords of the Pacific
Summary: Curse of the Black Pearl. Jack, Carolyn and Olivia depended on each other for support since childhood. When they are torn apart by Jack's absence, will they be able to reunite years later as friends, or will time have changed their loyalties forever?
1. Prologue: Part 1

_**Disclaimer:**_** Captain Isako and I own nothing of Pirates, save for the characters we've come up with. Please don't sue us or kill us in our sleep. **

_**Author's Note: **_**We hope you like it. **

**Prologue: Part One**

The sun kissed the waves as it began to sink beneath the horizon line and the clouds around it were shot with garish hues of pink and purple. The sea below was dark and reflected the sun's orange glow on its calm surface. The first faint glimmer of a blanket of silver stars could be seen in the twilight. Nathaniel Teague breathed deep the smell of the ocean air as it floated past on the chilly evening breeze. He made his way out to the dock where his dinghy was tied, his boots clunking noisily on the planks underfoot and the shining ornaments in his dreadlocked hair jingling slightly. As he was about to lower himself into the tiny vessel tied to the end of the dock, he paused.

"What're you doin', boy?" he grunted. He was neither angry nor amused. His young son, Jack, was sitting in the bottom of the boat, his arms wrapped around his knees as he sheltered himself from the cold.

"I want to go with you," Jack replied.

"Out of the boat, Jackie," Nathaniel ordered, jerking his thumb toward the dock behind him.

"Please take me with you?" Jack pleaded pathetically.

"Enough of that," the weathered old pirate told his son. "Get out of there before I drag you out by your scalp." The boy obeyed and scrambled out of the dinghy and back onto the dock. "There's a good lad. It ain't like you to not mind me."

"Why can't I come?" Jack asked.

"Pirate's life is no life for you," Nathaniel told him sternly. "Much too dangerous and I can't do right by you as your father if I let you get hurt so young."

"When will you be back?" the young boy asked, nearly in tears.

"I don't rightly know. The wind's blowin' me back to sea, Jack, I can't ignore it. Maybe you'll understand one day," Teague said vaguely.

"What about mum?"

"You'll have to look after her. She hasn't been right for a while, you know, and I worry about her. You're the man of the house for a little while. Think you can own up to the responsibility?" Nathaniel asked.

"Yes, sir…," Jack muttered, wiping his moist eyes with his sleeve.

"There's a good lad," Nathaniel said with a slow smile, clapping his boy on the shoulder. Suddenly he remembered something. Out of his jacket pocket he produced a long red cloth with a short string of beads sewed to it. "Almost forgot about the present I was gonna give to you."

"A present?" Jack asked, his face lighting up.

"Aye. You see this little thing here?" Teague said as he bent down on one knee, showing Jack the string of beads. On the end of it was a little silver coin. "D'you know what this is?" Jack shook his head. "This is one of the nine pieces of eight. Each Pirate Lord of the Brethren Court has a piece of eight and this one's mine. It's very important to me, and you have to promise me you won't lose it."

"I won't," Jack said, mesmerized by the shiny coin. Nathaniel tied the bandana around Jack's head so that the string of beads hung over his right eye.

"You wear this till I come back for it. Never take this cloth off yer head, don't let anyone too near it so's they might steal it. Savvy?"

"Savvy," Jack agreed.

"Good boy," Nathaniel said. He clamored into the dinghy and took up the oars. "Don't you cry for me, Jack. I'll be back soon enough."

"Alright," Jack sniffled as his father rowed away.

"Take good care of yer mother." And with that, Captain Nathaniel Teague rowed away towards a distant shore that beckoned to him in a tongue that only men like himself could understand, leaving Jack miserable and lamenting on the beach behind him.

* * *

"Mum!" cried a very excited Jack eight months later as he tore through the house to find his mother. "Mum, mum, mum!!"

"Wha's all the yelling about?" Rachel Teague muttered grumpily as she woke from a shallow sleep in her rocking chair. She had tied her brown hair into a bun days ago and it was falling out all over the place. Her clothes had not been changed in some time and the smell of her cheap perfume mingled sickeningly with the pungent aroma of stale rum. There were great bags under her eyes and the black makeup she used on her lashes was smeared, some of it dried on her cheeks from crying herself to sleep. She was an absolute mess to behold but Jack still found her very beautiful.

"Mrs. Marshall is having the baby! Come see!" Jack pleaded, pulling at his mother's skirts.

"I'd rather not, Jackie, births are terribly…messy," she said, her speech slurred as she groped for the bottle of rum next to the chair. "Why don't you go out on the dock and keep an eye out for your father, eh?" Jack's heart sank as Rachel tipped her head back and drained the rest of the contents of the bottle. His mother asked him about once a day to go and look for his father and she had been at it since Nathaniel left. Deep down, Jack was all too aware that his mother's behavior could not be construed as normal, but he loved her and he refused to admit it to himself or anybody else.

"Go on, then, and tell me straight away when he gets back," said Rachel, making a shooing gesture before sinking back down into the rocking chair and falling back asleep. Jack turned on his heel and ran out of the house and up the dirt road to the Marshall's house, not wanting to confront the fact that his mother was too drunk to talk to him again.

"Bobby!" Jack shouted as he burst through the Marshall's front door.

"Shush, boy!" snapped Robert Marshal in a fatherly way. "It's almost time and I don't want Lily to be under no stress. Come now, better get in there before we miss it."

"Where's Bobby?" Jack asked.

"In the room with his mother. Come with me, son," Robert said, steering Jack into the master bedroom. On the shoddy four posted bed lay an ailing woman, Lily Marshall, on her back, her stomach fat with pregnancy. Holding her hand very tightly was her son and Jack's best friend, Bobby. A midwife with a large basin brimming with water knelt near Lilly's feet, soaking several washcloths in the basin. The curtains were drawn shut and the lamps were turned down low, throwing a soft yellow glow on their surroundings.

"Oh! Lord in Heaven, it's coming, Mary!" Lily cried, her voice strained with pain. Her breathing was labored and beads of sweat dripped down her brow.

"Alright, Mrs. Marshall, take deep breaths like we talked about…that's it. Now if you feel ready, give a good push," Mary the midwife said as she threw the hem of Lily's dress over her bent knees. Jack craned his neck to see what was happening, but between Mary's crouching figure and Robert's looming one, he couldn't see a thing. Lily gave a scream of pain that caused Jack and Bobby to jump. Her groans and cries carried on for what seemed like forever. Jack felt an odd mixture of awe and alarm as Mrs. Marshall gave one final shout and the midwife stood, in her arms a very messy, bawling baby. She wiped the baby's scrunched up face clean with a wet washcloth and Mr. Marshall cut the umbilical chord. The midwife wrapped the newborn in a soft cloth and handed it to its mother, who was looking extremely exhausted, but relieved. She surveyed the new baby with loving eyes.

"It's a girl," Lily told them as the midwife cleaned her of blood.

"What's her name?" Jack asked intently.

"Carolyn. For her grandmother," Lily replied. "Say hello to your sister Carolyn, Bobby."

"Hi, baby," Bobby said as he reached out to touch her. Carolyn curled her tiny fingers around Bobby's index finger, causing him to smile weakly. Jack could tell that Bobby was very fond of her already. Even though the baby was yowling and her face was screwed up, Jack thought she was one of the prettiest things he ever saw.

* * *

The sun shone bright and hot on a typical day in the Caribbean. There wasn't a cloud in the sky over the clear blue water and the streets were alive with merchants and eager shoppers. Jack and Bobby, now nine years old and more mischievous than most boys their age, tore through the morning market crowd. Their laughter and shouts could be heard by almost the entire market. Trailing in an absolute rage was Carolyn, now five years old and so full of sass and spunk that most considered her a holy terror. The boys had stolen her most prized possession, a teddy bear given to her by her Grandpa, and she was determined to get it back from them.

"Jack, Bobby! Gimme back my teddy bear, you..." A string of very colorful curses issued from the child's mouth that was so vulgar that bystanders were appalled to hear such language out of such a small girl.

"You'll have to catch us first!" Jack called over his shoulder, brandishing the worn bear at her. With an amazing burst of speed, Carolyn caught up to the boys and tackled Jack, throwing all 55 pounds at him as hard as possible. Jack wasn't expecting this and was knocked off his feet, the wind escaping his lungs as his chest collided with the dirt road. Carolyn sat on the small of his back and yanked the bear out of his clutches.

"Alright…you win…now get off," Jack wheezed. Instead, she snatched the ends of Jack's red bandana and gave them a good yank.

"Giddy up! You're my horsy now," Carolyn informed him.

"Carolyn, I may be a lot of things, but I'm no one's horsy," Jack told her.

"Giddy up!" she cried, kicking him sharply in the sides with her heels.

"Mum said to stop kicking people, Carolyn!" Bobby scolded her.

"Mum's not here right now," Carolyn reminded him. Jack reluctantly climbed to his feet, the five year old clinging to his back. He grabbed hold of her tiny legs and carried her down the street as they continued back towards the Marshall's home.

"Oy, what's that?" Bobby asked. A fairly large ship was tied up at the dock, men coming down the gang plank with crates, boxes and furniture. The three children watched as the furniture was carried into the once empty house two doors down from Carolyn and Bobby.

"Someone's moving in," Carolyn observed.

"Let's investigate," Bobby suggested. They approached with both curiosity and caution, Carolyn still clinging roughly to Jack's head. The front door was open and they peered inside. A woman with a long sandy blonde braid that was heavily streaked with gray swept out of the house, nearly knocking them over.

"Oh!" she cried with alarm, holding a hand over her racing heart. "I didn't even see yeh there!" Her accent was distinctly Scottish and it was apparent that the family that was moving in had just made the crossing from England. "Who might you three be? The welcome wagon, perhaps?"

"Um, well, I'm Bobby, this is my friend Jack, and that's my sister, Carolyn," Bobby explained. "We're your neighbors."

"Ach! How sweet of yeh to come down an' see us, then! I'm Jean Yeisley, but I suppose that's Mrs. Yeisley to you, isn't it? Maybe yeh can get some o' my kids out o' my hair for half a minute. Thomas! Michael! Stuart! Olivia!" she shouted into the house. "Come out an' meet the neighbors!" Four children came stampeding out of the house. The three boys seemed close in age, perhaps only a year or so apart, the oldest looking around fourteen. The girl, however, was much younger and looked a little on the runty side. Her frame was slight and her sandy blonde hair matched her mother's.

"The oldest there is Thomas, this one's Michael and this is Stuart. Fourteen, twelve and eleven in that order and little Olivia is five next week, aren't you?"

"Yes, it's my birthday on April 30th!" Olivia announced enthusiastically.

"We've _all_ got birthdays, what makes yours so special?" Carolyn sneered from Jack's back.

"_Carolyn_!" Bobby hissed at her. Then he turned to the mother of the four children. "Sorry. She's…well, whatever she's thinking usually comes out. Sorry…"

"It's alright, isn't it, Olivia?" she said, giving her forlorn daughter an affectionate pat on the head. Olivia did not reply, but she did look quite on the verge of tears. "Why don't yeh go play while I get the house set up?"

"Where are we going?" the oldest boy, Thomas asked as Bobby and Jack led the way down to the water.

"To the beach," Jack replied as he tried to jerk his head out of Carolyn's grasp, but she wouldn't budge.

"What's at the beach?" Stuart asked, looking very skeptical indeed.

"All kinds of stuff," Jack said.

"Hey, where's your dad?" asked Carolyn to the four children.

"Daddy works on a fishing boat," Olivia said. She had gotten over the initial shock of Carolyn's blunt nature and was now as chipper as she was when she came to the door.

"He's coming later when the fishing season is over up north," Thomas explained.

"Jack's dad's out on a boat, isn't he, Jack?" Carolyn said.

"Is 'e a fisherman?" Michael asked.

"He's a pirate!" Carolyn announced loudly. Jack's cheeks turned a little pink, but he tried his best to shrug it off. He didn't want Bobby or the three older boys to make fun of him for being embarrassed. Everyone was content with letting the subject lie, but Carolyn grew impatient of Jack's silence.

"He's a pirate, isn't he, Jack?" she prompted.

"Something like that…," Jack muttered with a noncommittal shrug. An awkward silence ensued and Bobby decided to change the subject.

"Have you lot ever been swimming?" Bobby asked.

"Mommy told us we're not allowed because there's nasty fish in th' water," Olivia said cautiously as they trooped down the sandy beach.

"Do you do everything mommy says?" Carolyn scoffed. Olivia looked put out again, but Carolyn ignored her. She simply dropped down off of Jack's back and ran into the water without even removing her shoes. Bobby and Jack followed suit, and so did the three boys. Olivia sat down in the sand with a huff and refused to disobey her mother.


	2. Prologue: Part 2

**Prologue: Part Two**

Over the next few years, the Marshalls and the Yeisleys became close friends and their children became even closer. Thomas, Michael and Stuart were lucky enough to be enrolled in school, so Jack, Bobby, Carolyn and Olivia did not see very much of them during the day. By the time Jack and Bobby were 14, Olivia's brothers had all left home to seek their fortunes in larger towns or out at sea in order to help support their mother and younger sister. Olivia's father had died before he even made it to the Caribbean; his fishing boat was attacked by pirates, and Jack could only hope that his own father, who still hadn't returned home, wasn't to blame. Ever since, the Yeisley family had become poorer and poorer as time went on without a steady income. Olivia tried to keep a stiff upper lip, but she was only ten and was having a hard time of it.

"When do you suppose your brothers'll send money?" Carolyn asked Olivia one sunny morning in August as the two of them watched the boys trying to pick apart a coconut with their bare hands.

"Dunno. Soon, I hope," Olivia muttered as she dug a little hole in the sand with a stick. "Mum might 'ave to get a job somewhere in town."

"Isn't she going blind?" Jack asked offhandedly as he scratched at the coconut with his long, dirty fingernails.

"No! She…well, she just can't see _as well_ as she used to," Olivia said defensively.

"Yesterday she walked into the table in your parlor and almost fell over," Bobby pointed out as he picked up a rock to smash the coconut with.

"So??" Olivia seethed, her cheeks flushing angrily.

"So she's going blind," Carolyn said heartlessly, using a piece of dried kelp as a flag on one of the turrets of her small, sloppy sandcastle.

"No, all she needs is a pair of spectacles and she'll be fine," Olivia countered, trying to feign confidence. "They're just expensive and she can't buy any until Thomas sends money."

"I'll hold it and you hit it," Jack told Bobby as he steadied the coconut in his hands. "Give it a whack, mate…" Olivia barely heard Jack howl in pain a moment later when Bobby smashed his finger with the rock by accident. She was concentrating far too hard on not crying. Carolyn had made sure long ago that fits of crying were rewarded with verbal abuse and public humiliation. This harsh treatment had toughened Olivia slightly, but she still struggled with controlling her emotional outbursts. It had gotten more difficult ever since her brothers left. Even though she and Carolyn were mortal enemies on a good day, she would much rather be out with her and the boys than at home where she was reminded every day that her father was dead and her brothers were off working. Now her mother was growing blinder by the year and Olivia wasn't sure what she would do if her mother couldn't see anymore.

"Want a piece?" Bobby asked Olivia, jarring her from her thoughts. In his outstretched hand was a liberal chunk of coconut. She took it and scraped the white meat from the husk with her teeth as she tried to take her mind off her family problems.

"Bobby, I think you ought to let me borrow that hat," Jack said enviously, gesturing to Bobby's battered leather tricorn hat that he had found a few days ago bobbing along in the surf. Bobby pulled it down a little further onto his head.

"Not a chance, finders keepers," Bobby said defensively.

"C'mon, mate, just for a little while…," Jack begged.

"Give up, Jack, that thing never leaves his stupid head," Carolyn said in a mocking tone.

"Looks sort of like the one me dad wore, is all," Jack said nostalgically.

"Hey, is yer mum alright, Jack?" Olivia asked. She knew that his mother was a tender subject, but her tone was full of concern which made Jack more willing to talk about her.

"She mostly just sits in her chair with her rum," he said through a mouthful of sandy coconut. "She never stops asking about my dad, though. Bit annoying, really. It's been five years, you'd think she'd give it a rest."

"He might still come back," Olivia said optimistically.

"I don't know anymore," Jack said with a heavy sigh.

* * *

The next week was the worst in anyone's recent memory. A terrible squall tore past the coast, battering seaside towns with rain and wind, ripping shingles off houses and smashing boats against the beach. The Yeisley's roof now leaked something terrible and there was no money to fix it. Robert Marshall tried his best to patch it, but he was no roofer and a few places still dripped when it rained. Shortly after the storm, a disaster far worse hit the town.

Olivia felt herself regain consciousness out of a deep slumber when the loud, booming sound of cannon fire rumbled in the distance. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and just as she approached her bedroom window to see what was happening, her mother burst into the room, a lamp in her hand.

"Olivia, come wi' me, we've got t' hide," Jean said urgently, grabbing her daughter's tiny hand and giving it a tug.

"But-," Olivia began to say.

"Don't argue! Come wi' me right now!" Jean muscled Olivia into the master bedroom where the two of them climbed into the large wardrobe and shut the doors. Jean put out the lamp and sat down with her knees against her chest.

"Mummy, what's happening?" Olivia demanded as her mother yanked her to the wooden floor.

"Pirates," Jean said in a hushed voice. "We must be very quiet until it's over."

"Wha' about Carolyn, Bobby and Jack? Are they alright?" Olivia asked frantically.

"I don't know, darling, I don't know. Please stay quiet," Jean begged. Olivia felt tears well up in her eyes. She was scared, not only for herself and her mother, but for her friends as well. To top it all off, some of her father's clothes that her mother had unpacked when they moved in were hanging directly over her head and his familiar scent still clung faintly to the fabric. The knowledge that her father would never again be there to protect his family made everything much worse. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks and her body shook with silent sobs.

After a moment, the sound of cannon fire got closer. At one point, the house next door was hit, the collision rocking the Yeisley home on its foundation. Olivia yelped in panic and her mother shushed her. All at once, Olivia could hear shouting, screaming and laughing as pirates tore through the town, killing everyone in their path. Horrible images swam into her imagination: a dozen pirates ripping her friends and their families apart, slashing them with their swords or just shooting them outright. Olivia became fidgety as the screams intensified outside. Almost everything she held dear to her was already gone and she could not bear to imagine one more loss.

"Mummy, what about Bobby, Jack and Carolyn!!" Olivia shouted, unable to take it anymore.

"Please, Olivia, stay quiet!" Jean hissed, sounding panicked.

"I'm not going to let them die!" Olivia cried. In one quick movement, she flung her ten-year-old frame from the wardrobe.

"OLIVIA!" her mother screamed in anguish as she ran after her daughter. Olivia ran as fast as her short little legs could carry her out of the house. What she was met with on the street was absolute chaos. The air was thick with bluish smoke from cannons, pistols and bombs. Bodies littered the street leading up from the dock, their spilt blood trickling down the dirt road. A single boat occupied the port; the flag that was fluttering in the night air above its deck boasted a skull and crossbones. Homes were being broken into, her neighbors were being shot in their tracks and Jack, Bobby and Carolyn were no where in sight.

"Olivia, come back here!" sobbed Jean wildly as she came out of the house, but Olivia was determined to find her friends. Her mother's shouts were drowned out by the laughing and shouting of the pirates raiding the town around her as Olivia sprinted towards Jack's house. The Teague home was right down on the beach and had taken a beating from the storm that passed through the week before. The pirates seemed to be steering clear of it, which allowed her to arrive that much faster.

"Jack!" Olivia's tiny voice screamed over the din as she pounded up the wooden stairs of his porch. She pushed open the perpetually unlocked door and bounded inside. "Jack, where are you??"

"Olivia?" Jack asked incredulously as he came to the door. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for you!" she panted.

"Has no one told you there's a pirate raid going on outside?" he asked as if she were insane.

"I've seen it," she said flatly. "Where are Carolyn and Bobby?"

"In their house, I think," Jack said anxiously. "I haven't seen them."

"We have to go find them," Olivia said, looking quite calm.

"Are you mad?" Jack asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. Olivia paused and looked at him for a moment.

"…No," she said. "Look, we have to hurry! What if they die and we could have saved them? Could you live with yourself after that??" Jack could scarcely believe all this was coming out of a runty ten-year-old's mouth, especially one that was almost always on the verge of tears.

"But what if _we're_ killed?" Jack asked, looking very nervous.

"Come on, you coward!" Olivia shouted at him, taking him by the front of his shirt and hauling him out of the house. Outside, the raid had not calmed down at all. Part of Olivia hoped that her mother was still inside the house, but most of her concentration was on finding the others and making sure they were alright.

"Carolyn! Bobby!" she shouted as she and Jack weaved through pirates and frightened civilians. As Olivia looked behind her to see if Jack was still there, she collided with something solid. Her body ricocheted off of it and she hit the ground hard. When she looked up, an extremely dirty pirate looked down at her. There was a scar running the length of his face through his cloudy left eye and he had several teeth missing. His hair was long and greasy and it was tied back by a string. He had a cutlass in one hand and a pistol in the other.

"'Ello, wot's this?" he said menacingly, looking very amused. Olivia scuttled back into Jack's legs as she tried to get away from the pirate. "Isn't it past yo' bedtime?" he crooned mockingly in his cockney accent as he stepped closer. Jack hauled Olivia to her feet as the two of them tried to back away cautiously. "Naughty children ought to be punished for breakin' the rules…," he cocked his gun and aimed it at Olivia's frightened face. Just as he squeezed the trigger, the gun was knocked out of his hand, causing it to fire into a nearby edifice. Robert Marshall cracked the pirate across the jaw with a closed fist before wrenching the sword out of his hand and running him through with it. Olivia knew that her mouth was dangling open, but she couldn't stop herself from gawking.

"You alright, mate?" Carolyn asked Olivia as she gave her a little shake.

"Think so…," Olivia muttered. Suddenly she remembered why they were out to begin with. "Where's Bobby?"

"At home with mum," Carolyn said. "Why're you two out here?"

"Exactly what I was going to ask," Robert said sternly as he looked down upon Jack and Olivia. "It doesn't matter. Come with us." It wasn't an offer or an invitation. It was an order. Jack and Olivia trailed behind Carolyn and her father as they made their way toward the Marshall house. A grizzly sight met them as they crested the hill where Carolyn and Bobby lived: their house had been set on fire. Robert's face drained of color.

"LILLY! BOBBY!" he shouted as he broke into a run. The three children tried their best to keep up, but fell behind. "Stay out here, you three!"

"Daddy, wait!" Carolyn shouted, but Robert had already entered the flaming house. A few minutes passed by and a chunk of the roof caved in, sending a fountain of glowing embers into the sky. Carolyn lurched forward to try and enter the house after her father, but Jack and Olivia held her back.

"Let me go!" Carolyn fumed.

"Not a chance!" Jack growled as he held her around the middle. Just then, a pair of pirates ran past laughing drunkenly as they went. They stopped at the burning house and one elbowed the other as he held a hand-held explosive aloft. Carolyn's stomach tied into a knot as the two pirates threw their whole supply of bombs into the house through the shattered windows.

"NOOO!" Carolyn screamed as she broke free of Jack and Olivia's grasp. Just as she reached the burning steps, the house exploded, knocking Carolyn off her feet and sending her flying straight into Olivia, who fell backwards. Burning bits of debris fell all around them, showering everything in hot ash and splinters. The smoke in the air burned their throats and lungs and there was a powerful ringing in their ears from the explosion.

"NO!" screamed Carolyn as she staggered to her feet. "MUMMY, DADDY, BOBBY!" She began to run towards the burning shell that was once her house, but Olivia tackled her, sending the two of them sprawling to the ground. "GET OFF! I'LL KILL YOU, GET OFF!"

"NO!" Olivia shouted as she tightened her grip on her. Carolyn scratched at Olivia's arms, cutting bloody little marks in her flesh, but Olivia held on through Carolyn's attacks. In desperation, Carolyn grabbed a piece of wood that was tipped with glowing hot coals and hit Olivia over the head with it. Olivia cried out as the plank left a large purple bruise on her forehead and a burning splinter sliced through her eyebrow. She let go of Carolyn, who scrambled to her feet, only to have Jack knock her down again.

"LET GO, JACK!" Carolyn screamed. Tears were now flowing freely down her blackened face, leaving little flesh colored trails in their wake.

"They're gone, Carolyn," Jack told her firmly. "You can't save them, they're already gone."

"No, no, no," Carolyn repeated over and over as Jack rocked her back and forth in his arms. "Please, God, no…" Olivia was finally able to take in the horrific sight of what was once the Marshall house. The roof was gone and the interior was gutted. The orange flames that devoured the walls were mesmerizing against the black night sky and Olivia felt her cut eyebrow begin to ooze blood as she watched it in shock. The three of them did not notice the pirates haul the spoils of their raid back to their ship. They did not notice the authorities arrive to help the trapped and the injured, either. No words were said, no condolences were offered. However, as they sat there in silence, it became blaringly apparent that the three of them had to stick together or risk losing everything.

After what seemed like hours, Olivia's mother found them huddled amongst the burning debris of the Marshall's home, which was now nothing more than a smoldering vacancy. Jean knew what had happened before anyone told her and she herded the children back to her home. Carolyn had stopped crying, but there was a darkness in her eyes that was new and unnerving. Jack looked beyond shocked and Olivia held a damp washcloth to her freely bleeding eyebrow. Jean cleaned them up in silence, letting Jack borrow some of Thomas' old clothes and outfitting Carolyn in one of Olivia's nightgowns. Bandaged and in a state of silent distress, the three of them were sent to bed. Carolyn took Stuart's unoccupied bed on the other side of Olivia's room and Jack took Thomas's bed in the room next to them. As Jack settled down into the dusty sheets, he noticed something familiar near the door. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was Bobby's pirate hat. He must have accidentally left it at the Yeisley's when they were playing in the house a few days ago. Stunned and suddenly very aware of how empty he felt without his best friend, Jack put the hat on his head and vowed to always keep it near him. On the other side of the wall, the two girls lay there in the dark staring off into space until the light of dawn crept into the room, confirming that the nightmare that they experienced that night was indeed real.

There was a mass funeral that the entire community attended a week later. It seemed as though everyone had someone to bury. The names of the deceased were read from a list, the Marshall's popping up somewhere in the middle. While there were grave stones erected in the cemetery for Carolyn's lost family members, there were no bodies beneath the ground. Just as everyone had feared, they had each been burned alive until nothing was left. Carolyn did not shed a tear for the entire service. After everyone was gone, Carolyn, Olivia and Jack followed Jean home, changed. They had never been carefree children, but now they seemed to have a solemn maturity that most children their age were not unfortunate enough to possess.


	3. Prologue: Part 3

**Prologue: Part Three**

Six long years had passed since the fire. Olivia and Carolyn had grown into young women and Jack had grown into a blossoming alcoholic. When he was not at the Yeisley house or on the beach, he was with his mother, filling the gaping hole that Bobby Marshall left behind with rum. Sometimes Carolyn joined in, the pain of her loss too great for her to bear. Carolyn had been living full time under the Yeisley roof ever since the raid and Jack was practically part of the family. Sometimes he spent weeks at a time living with Olivia and Carolyn only leaving briefly to check to see if his mother was still where he left her (and sometimes to steal her rum.) He had done his best to look after her as he had promised his father, but her mental state was deteriorating every day that her husband did not return. As for Olivia, she spent many afternoons lying out on the beach, enjoying the feeling of her skin burning in the summer sun while Carolyn and Jack finished off entire bottles of rum between the two of them.

"D'you…d'you ever feel like you'd want to _leave_?" A twenty-year-old Jack asked, making an exaggerated gesture with his arms toward the open ocean one particularly hot evening in late July. An empty bottle of rum sat discarded some feet away.

"Wha'dyou mean, Jackie?" Carolyn muttered, her long, dark, curly hair draping in her face as she lay flat on her back in the sand. She and Olivia were both sixteen and neither of them were married. Within the next two years or so, they would be considered old maids, but neither of them cared.

"I mean…climbing in a _boat_ and just…_leaving_," Jack said, giving his budding goatee a healthy scratch.

"Fer where?" Olivia asked as she picked a chunk of Jack's hair into a dreadlock with a comb. She had been sitting cross legged behind him on top of a very small little dune for the last hour, dreadlocking his hair as requested and watching him and Carolyn drink away their sorrows.

"_Anywhere_," Jack said, his head sinking back into Olivia's lap.

"Get off. Yeh wanted dreadlocks, yeh'll sit up while I do this," Olivia said, flicking him on the nose.

"You're quite right, love," Jack said as he sat back up with what seemed like great difficulty. "Apologies."

"Sometimes I want to leave," Carolyn mused as she braided a piece of her own hair, threading in with it a few sea shells on a string. "Get away from this place and these people."

"Great, then you'll come with me!" Jack said happily, making another flourish with his arms.

"Yeh're like yer mum when yeh're drunk, Jackie, only yeh're more…," Olivia trailed off and imitated some of his hand gestures before going back to his hair. He ignored her and felt as though he might want to fall asleep for a nap.

"I don't know if I'd go with you," Carolyn muttered, tying the end of her braid into a knot.

"What? Why not?" Jack asked, his speech slurring significantly as he looked over at her.

"I'd probably feel guilty for leaving," she admitted.

"It wasn't your fault, love, none of it was," Jack told her, trying to be as gentle as a man could be with half a bottle of rum in his belly. "And if we hadn't held you back, you'd be dead, same as them."

"Maybe you shouldn't've held me back," Carolyn muttered softly. Olivia and Jack both stared at her.

"Don't say things like tha'," Olivia said, her Scottish accent making her sound all the more serious.

"I wonder about that sometimes, though," Carolyn sighed. "Why I was the only one to survive it."

"Maybe yer destined fer great things," said Olivia optimistically as she started dreadlocking another long piece of Jack's hair.

"Like what? Growing old with no money, no future and no husband?" Carolyn scoffed. "Fantastic."

"Jack'll marry yeh," Olivia said with a smirk. "Won't yeh, Jack?"

"I'll marry you right now," said a very drunk, sleepy Jack.

"Liar," Carolyn spat, chucking a bit of sand at him.

"No, I will, soon's I have a bit of money to pay for a ring, I'll marry you," he sputtered. "And then we'll run away together, you and me. Fly off toward wherever like...a….like a pair of sparrows." Carolyn began giggling uncontrollably.

"You're so full of shit," she laughed.

"Olivia," Jack said, turning around. He pointed lazily at Carolyn. "Carolyn…does _not_ think that when I'm somehow rich that I'll marry 'er…"

"It's a shame, innit?" Olivia said with an amused grin.

"But I will, I'll show the lot of you. I'll marry 'er and we'll have little children and a house by the beach. You'll see," Jack roared drunkenly, waving his arms in the air a little.

"I won't because it'll never happen," Carolyn said loudly.

"We'll be Jack and Carolyn Sparrow, cuz that's what we'll be," Jack ranted on. "Pair of sparrows…." And with that, Jack Teague fell asleep where he sat. Olivia and Carolyn giggled at him as Olivia kept yanking his hair into tight dreadlocks.

"Wanker…," Carolyn muttered as she too drifted off to sleep. When Olivia was finished with the dreadlock she was working on, she pulled up a comfortable bit of beach and let the sounds of the gently lapping surf lull her into slumber along with the rest.

* * *

Only a few months had passed, but Jack's restlessness had increased tenfold. He could no longer sleep soundly and he could not focus on anything. Every time the wind blew through his dreadlocks, it was as if it were pulling him out to sea. The crash of the waves upon the beach made his heart ache and he felt that if he didn't leave soon, he would slowly fade into the doldrums like his mother before him. He wondered if this was what his father had told him that he might understand one day: the inescapable calling of the sea. Jack had been eying a seemingly abandoned boat for the last few weeks. It was a dinghy, bigger than most with a patched white sail. As far as he could tell, no one had touched it for quiet some time and it was ripe for the taking.

A cool October breeze found its way through the open window of Jack's room at the Yeisley's in the wee hours of the morning. He had not slept that night at all and the smell of the sea salt on the wind only made his senses more alive. Tonight was the night.

He rose from his bed quietly and turned up the flame in his bedside lamp so that it illuminated the room around him. He felt around for the bag that had been under his bead for months with provisions, rum and a change of clothes. Producing it, he slung it over one shoulder and put on his battered, holey shoes. Before he left the room, Jack put Bobby's old hat on his head as he had done habitually ever since the fire. As he crept out of the house, he stopped by Carolyn and Olivia's room. Their door was open a crack, so all he had to do was push it open. The girls were sleeping soundly in their beds, completely unaware of what was taking place. On the nightstand in between the two beds, Jack placed a very small ring made of a braid of string on Carolyn's side. He gazed at her in the weak light and smiled slightly. He didn't know when he'd see her again, which made his departure more difficult than he thought. He couldn't imagine anyone looking so pretty while they slept. On a whim, he bent over and kissed her on the forehead.

"You wait for me and I'll come back for you, love," he whispered. He knew that she had wanted to go when he left, but he had a feeling that his destiny involved quite a lot of peril and violence. It was no atmosphere for women and he would hate himself forever if she were to get hurt. Olivia, too, for that matter. He regarded her as a sister and wanted to protect her as such. Leaving them behind was the only way he could think of to save them from the dangers he faced.

Without so much as a good-bye, Jack Teague left the house, commandeered his first vessel and sailed off in search of a different life under a different name.

* * *

When Carolyn awoke the next morning, she knew something was amiss. Jack was absent from his bed. He wasn't on the beach or at his house with his mum. It was too early in the day to be prowling around the liquor store. And the little abandoned dinghy that had been tied to the docks for weeks was gone. Anger burned in Carolyn's heart as she stormed back to the house. She tore through the room he had been occupying and could not find his shoes or his jacket. The hat he had inherited from Bobby was missing as well, confirming her suspicions.

"What are yeh doin', Carolyn?" a tired looking Mrs. Yeisley asked as she came into Jack's room. Carolyn was kneeling on the floor, her fingers balled into fists. She was biting her lip so hard that it had begun to bleed.

"Jack's gone," Carolyn muttered.

"Wha's that? No, I'm sure he's just gone home to his mother's house," Mrs. Yeisley said comfortingly.

"No. He isn't anywhere, he's stolen a boat and he's gone," Carolyn growled. She rose from her spot on the floor and stormed back into her own room, slamming the door behind her and scaring Olivia awake.

"Who's shooting?" Olivia asked stupidly as she sat bolt-upright in bed. "Oy, what's wrong?"

"Jack's left," Carolyn seethed.

"What?!" Olivia cried, her groggy eyes snapping open.

"He's left without us," Carolyn said angrily as the first tears in six years streamed down her face. "It isn't FAIR!" she roared, tipping over the nightstand in a rage. Her chest heaved with deep, angry breaths. She seemed to collect herself after a moment. "What're you looking at?" she snarled at Olivia.

"You, being a complete baby," Olivia snapped back.

"If you want to fight, we can take this outside," Carolyn hissed.

"I'm not going to fight yeh. Will yeh please pick all tha' up?" she demanded, gesturing to the lamp, whose broken shards now lay in a puddle of lamp oil. Carolyn complied, carefully putting the pieces of glass into the little wicker waste basket. Just as she was about to wipe up the oil with a towel that was lying under her bed, she noticed a little string hoop lying on the floor.

"What's this?" she asked, picking it up for Olivia to see.

"Dunno, never seen it before," Olivia replied. That said, Carolyn knew where it had come from: Jack. Was he perhaps serious about all the marriage jokes they had been making lately? And if so, why would he have left after leaving something like this for her? His stupidity made her angrier than she had ever been. Didn't he know that he was one of the last people she had, perhaps the most important person left? He was the last thing that really tied her to her family and now he was gone.

"I'm leaving, too," Carolyn said. "I'm going to find him if it's the last thing I do."

"Carolyn, do yeh have any idea how vast the ocean is? By the time yeh get out there, Jack could be _anywhere_," Olivia said, trying to reason with her. "Yeh could set out in the _opposite_ direction by accident. Yeh've never manned a boat in yer life. Think about storms and pirates!"

"Maybe I'll become one and then I won't have to worry about them," Carolyn seethed through gritted teeth.

"Carolyn…please don't leave me here by myself," Olivia begged. "Please. I've got no life here without you or Jack."

"Sort out your own problems," Carolyn huffed, wiping madly to dry her tear soaked cheeks. Olivia was incredibly hurt by her words. Now that Jack had left, she knew that things were going to fall apart.

It took a few years, but finally, when Olivia was helping her mother at the market, Carolyn borrowed a shirt, a jacket and a pair of breeches from Thomas's wardrobe and stole away on a merchant ship that had made port for the afternoon down at the dock. Olivia thought that Carolyn had forgotten her plans of escape over the last two years and she was shaken by her sudden absence. She had never felt so very alone in all her life, but she knew she couldn't go after Carolyn. She couldn't go the way of her brothers and abandon her mother. They had never sent the money they promised Jean and Olivia and they had not come back for even a short visit. She was now stuck in the tiny port town, probably for the rest of her life. No one would marry her knowing that they would have to support her mother as well and there was no way that she could ever make any money of her own without a proper education. The feeling of helplessness that welled up inside Olivia made her feel as though she was drowning very slowly and no one even made an attempt to save her.


	4. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: For the Spanish in this chapter, I turned to Babel Fish since it's been three years since high school Spanish class. I promise that this eventually gets into the whole Curse of the Black Pearl plot. **

**Chapter One: What Became of Olivia and Carolyn**

Twelve years separated the present from the day that Carolyn left. Olivia had seen neither hide nor hair of either Jack or Carolyn since. Most of her time was now devoted to helping her mother, who had been completely blind for the last seven years and had now developed some sort of debilitating disease that the local doctor had never seen or heard of before and therefore had no means of curing it. Her mother was the very last person on the face of God's green earth that she knew and loved and now, Olivia feared that she was dying. Facing one thing after another for her entire life had made her strong, to be sure, but nothing could prepare her for the inevitable death of her own mother.

Just after her thirtieth birthday, Jean called to Olivia from her bed, where she spent most of her days now. Assuming that all she wanted was a glass of water or something to eat, Olivia pried herself from the sofa cushion in the parlor and set her smutty romance novel down.

"Wha' can I get for yeh, mum?" Olivia said without any enthusiasm whatsoever as she rounded the corner into the master bedroom. Her mother's cloudy eyes stared straight ahead, but on her thin face she wore a glimmer of a smile.

"Olivia, I've just come up with the most wonderful idea," Jean said pleasantly.

"Oh? What?" Olivia asked, her brow knitting as she took a seat on the edge of the large bed.

"It's a big favor to ask of yeh, I'm not sure if I should…"

"Well, yeh've already started, so why not just ask?" Olivia asked patiently.

"I'd like yeh to go out and find Jack and Carolyn," Jean said. "I miss them so much and I've been afraid lately that if they don't turn up soon, I…well, I may never get to see them again." Olivia was dumbstruck. She had no idea how to react to her mother's request.

"I…mum, it's been, what…twelve years? I wouldn't even know where to start looking," Olivia said helplessly. "And I probably wouldn't even know them if I saw them, it's been so long."

"Oh, nonsense, you'd be able to tell if it was them! I'm sure they've already found each other, so you may find them in the same place! Wouldn't that be convenient?" Jean said, her tone chipper for a woman on her deathbed.

"Yes, very…," Olivia said doubtfully. "Listen, mum…I can't just leave yeh here with no one to look after yeh. It'd be cruel and irresponsible of me and I can't do it."

"We could hire someone to take care of me," Jean said. "Oh, I know I'm a burden on yeh, Olivia, and I'm sorry for that. Think of this as yer chance t' get out into the world! Yeh've not left this island since we came here. Wouldn't yeh like a change o' scenery?"

"Well…I _would_, but I…mum, how am I supposed to find Jack and Carolyn? They've not written or visited, I have no idea where to begin looking!" Olivia said weakly. Jean only smiled.

"Fate brought yeh three together once. I'm certain that if yeh set out t' find them, yeh would. Fate is a powerful thing," she told her daughter. "Never forget that. Now, let's think of a few people to ask to take care of my old, burdensome self."

* * *

At first, Olivia tried to talk her mother out of the ridiculous request she was making of her daughter. The odds of finding Jack and Carolyn when they could be anywhere in the Caribbean and beyond were discouragingly close to nothing. The mere thought of how vast the seas and oceans of the world were made Olivia feel very tiny and powerless. Unfortunately, despite her attempts at diplomatic negotiations, all her efforts were in vain. Jean was adamant that her last wish on earth was to see Jack and Carolyn once more and that Olivia was the only one that had any chance of bringing them home. Reluctantly, Olivia gave in and took her mother seriously.

It took a little over a week to find someone to take care of Jean, but Olivia finally chanced upon Isabel. Her line of work usually had her looking after small children, but Olivia assured her that the most she would have to do was to step out to the market for groceries. The biggest relief was that Isabel was not used to very high wages, so Olivia barely had to pay her anything. It was easier than she thought to secure herself a place on a boat off the island. The captain of the merchant ship that made port about once a month delivering all manner of things to be sold in the market was an acquaintance of hers and was happy to let her aboard for as long as she needed.

"We go all over, Miss Olivia, all over," Captain Gomez said enthusiastically in his heavy Spanish accent. "Cuba, Haiti, Mexico, Aruba, Barbados, everywhere! If you're looking for friends, they've got to be around here somewhere. Me and my crew will be glad to have you."

"Thank yeh so much," Olivia said gratefully. "When are yeh leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning, around nine, maybe. You come a little before that, you'll be sure to have a spot with us," he said with a friendly smile. Olivia thanked him again before rushing home to pack her things.

* * *

Guilt coursed through Olivia when she realized the next morning that she was in no way sad to leave her mother in the hands of a seventeen year old girl as Olivia herself went off on a grand adventure. Her mother seemed thoroughly convinced that Olivia would find her estranged friends and bring them back directly. Although she was thankful for the chance to leave the island, Olivia couldn't help but feel as if she was setting out on a wild goose chase.

"Be careful and hurry back!" Jean said with a smile. "I know yeh'll find them. Bring them straight home when yeh do!"

"Yes, mum…," Olivia said. She tried not to think too much about what would happen if she were to come back empty handed. The thought of coming back to an empty house also plagued her thoughts.

"And remember, the sea is a dangerous place, so stay away from dodgy types!" her mother reminded her. "And…and if yeh happen t' find yer brothers while yeh're lookin'…"

"I'll bring them home too," Olivia assured her.

"Good girl," Jean said happily with a smile. "The morning's getting on; yeh should head down to the dock."

"Yer right," Olivia replied. "I love yeh, mum."

"I love yeh too, darling," Jean said as she settled back into her feather-filled pillows. "See yeh soon."

"Soon," Olivia agreed. As she left the room, she stopped to talk to Isabel. "If I return and I find out yeh've done anything wrong, I'll be very _upset_," she said dangerously. Isabel nodded vigorously, looking a little alarmed. Olivia gave her a firm nod before leaving the house and heading down the hill to _La Bonita _which, as promised, was still tied up at the dock and waiting for her. Captain Gomez, his enormous, portly frame planted firmly beside the gang plank, greeted her loudly.

"Miss Olivia! _Buenos dias_! Still coming along, I take it?" he boomed with a great toothy grin.

"Yes sir," Olivia replied with a little insincere gusto in her tone.

"All aboard, then, we're ready to go!" he said, making a ladies-first gesture at the gang plank. Olivia carefully climbed the thin wooden plank, making sure that she had a good grasp on her small satchel. Once at the top, she hopped down onto the deck of the ship, which was packed with tied down crates stacked high and sun baked sailors, most of whom were older than she. Gomez hauled the gang plank up onto the deck before dusting off his hands on his grimy trousers.

"_Bien, muchachos, van abajo a sus áreas dejan fila fuera de este puerto_!" he shouted to his crew. Olivia didn't understand a word of it, but it sent almost all of the men below deck in a hurry. Gomez caught the look of confusion on her face and let loose a bark of a laugh. "You'll have to forgive my crew. Most of them don't know English from French. In fact, most of them don't know the difference between port and starboard! Ha!" Olivia smiled and shook her head. "Let me show you to your quarters. It's no feather bed, _señorita, _but it'll have to do if you want to travel with us."

Gomez led her down below deck and down further still past the cargo hold and the deck where the oars and cannons were kept to an area where hammocks hung everywhere, suspended on the support beams. There were a few cots as well, but not much else.

"Lucky for you, you get to sleep in one of the passenger hammocks," Gomez said as he arrived at the very back of the crew quarters. "Most of the other ones have ripped from their nails more than once, but these ones here are just like new. Most of the time, nights are pretty warm down here, but I got you a blanket anyway. You can put your bag in your hammock during the day, if you want; there aren't any thieves on this ship."

"And am I to stay down here until yeh make port?" Olivia asked. Gomez gave another good hearted laugh.

"Of course not! You have full run of the ship except for my cabin," he said. "Can't very well look for your friends if you aren't allowed on deck, eh?"

"I suppose not," Olivia said with a little smile.

"Well, I'd better make sure _los idiotas_ get out of the shallows without crashing my boat, eh? Ha!" Gomez navigated his large body through the maze of hammocks before ascending the creaky wooden steps to where the crew was rowing. Alone in the dim sleeping quarters, Olivia put her satchel beneath her tattered blanket. She felt a little uncomfortable just standing there listening to the waves outside buffet the sides of the ship, so she climbed three flights of rickety stairs to the main deck. The boat was well on its way out of shallow water and the island of Jamaica was becoming smaller and smaller. Olivia had not been on a boat in over twenty years and in that time she had forgotten how much she enjoyed the feeling of the wind whipping through her long, sandy blonde hair. She breathed deep the smell of the ocean and a feeling of freedom nearly overwhelmed her. Remembering the task at hand, she took up a position at the bow of the ship, keeping her eyes peeled for anyone and anything that could lead her to the discovery of her old friends.

* * *

There are some places in the world that are only worth visiting at night, and one of those places was Tortuga, Hispaniola. Bar fights and pillaging were nightly occurrences and only the bravest of souls set foot on its shores voluntarily. For this reason, it was a shock to the men loitering on the dock to see a woman stride by with the sort of confidence one only gained from a lifetime of being in one unfortunate event after another. Her long, dark, curly hair was braided many times and tied back into a ponytail. A few thin, long braids were draped over a faded black bandana. Her ears were pierced many times with large silver hoops and there was a tiny diamond stud in her right nostril. On her torso was a white, billowy shirt whose collar draped over a black corset stitched with red roses. The ends of her shirt stuck out of the bottom of the corset, where a very large belt hung loosely at an angle around her hips. A rusty, chipped cutlass dangled from its leather loop on the belt and a pair of skin-tight, dark brown pants fed straight into her large black boots. The look in her eyes, which were heavily lined with a greasy black kohl, caused passerby to divert their attention away from her in fear that she might run them through with her obviously used blade.

It had been twelve long years since Carolyn left home and she knew that her appearance had changed so drastically that she was near unrecognizable. She had been through more than she would have ever imagined in her efforts to find Jack: she had been a dishwasher on a merchant ship for a few years, a bar wench and, more recently, a self-made pirate. For the last six years, she had sailed with a buccaneer crew out of Barbados and held a position as second mate. She had helped commandeer ships, steal valuable shipments from the Royal Navy and dispose of unwanted captives and crew members. Now an experienced pirate, Carolyn had decided to take a more active approach in finding the estranged Jack Teague that she had been searching for, for so long.

Carolyn wove through the streets of Tortuga, which were damp with ale and urine to a familiar section of town. The sounds of a man being pleasured by a nameless prostitute issued from the end of the alley that Carolyn had just entered. She ignored them and knocked on an old wooden door in the side of the nearest rundown building.

"State your name and purpose or I'll shoot you where you stand!" shouted a manic female voice from behind the door. Carolyn heard the familiar sound of a pistol being cocked, but she only smiled and shook her head.

"Carolyn Marshall, here to invade the privacy and hospitality of an old friend," she said in an amused voice. The door opened immediately and staring out at her were two dark, intense eyes.

"Oh, _now_ you show up? You're late by seven years. You know that, don't you?" Anamaria huffed, planting a hand firmly on her hip.

"Stop bitching and let me in," Carolyn laughed. Anamaria opened the door just wide enough for Carolyn to slip through before shutting and locking it behind her. "Put that gun away before you shoot yourself."

"Don't think I know how to use this? Hmm?!" Anamaria asked feverishly, waving the pistol around. Then her face split into a smile before she gathered Carolyn into a vice-like hug.

"Glad to see me, then?" Carolyn asked, patting her friend on the back.

"Of course! I've had a shit week, I could use the company," Anamaria said as she led the way up a flight of unstable stairs. The stairs let out into a dingy little flat that was unkempt to say the least. Worn furniture littered the small parlor and a threadbare rug covered a patch of the rough, warped wooden floor. A dimly lit red lamp threw a cozy pink light on its surroundings and caused the shadows around the flat to lengthen significantly. Although old and worn, the flat was nothing short of comfortable.

"I'll be able to listen to your woes a little more intently if you pour me a drink," Carolyn said with a smirk as she flopped down on the tattered old couch.

"You still take rum?" Anamaria asked.

"I _only_ take rum," Carolyn said. Anamaria stomped off into the tiny kitchen behind the parlor, where she dumped a liberal amount of rum into a chipped clay mug for Carolyn. She poured herself a whisky before settling down on the couch next to Carolyn.

"You know it's actually _you_ that owes _me_ the drink since you stood me up that night at the _Bride_," Anamaria reminded her as she thrust the mug into Carolyn's hands.

"The thought had crossed my mind," Carolyn said before taking a hearty swig of rum. "Sorry 'bout that."

"You still owe me," she said, pointing a finger in Carolyn's face. Now that Anamaria had time to glance over her friend's attire, she smirked. "You've gone pirate, eh?"

"It puts bread on the table," Carolyn said with a shrug.

"I've considered it myself, once or twice," Anamaria said thoughtfully.

"Well, enough about me. Tell me, my dear old friend, what's made your week so detestable?"

"Oh, you won't believe this! First, I get fired from the _Salty Wench_," Ana Maria said, obviously outraged.

"No!" Carolyn cried, sitting up straight in alarm. The two women had met eight years ago when Carolyn got her job at the Salty Wench cleaning up after the rowdy patrons.

"Yes! And after I'd given them my time for eleven God damned years, too! All because I accidentally killed someone in a bar fight," Anamaria muttered angrily.

"It happens all the time," Carolyn assured her sympathetically.

"Then, to top it all off, some bastard I've known since before I started working at the pub stole my damn boat, right out from under my nose!" Anamaria ranted. "He asks me if he can borrow it, I said _no_ and the next morning, it's gone. I know it's him and the next time I see him, I'm gonna shoot him."

"Who is he? Do I know him?" asked Carolyn before taking another drink. "Maybe I'll help you settle your score."

"I don't think so. Some bloody pirate called Jack Sparrow," Anamaria said, rolling her eyes. Upon hearing the name, Carolyn choked on her rum and began to cough loudly. Anamaria thumped Carolyn on the back hard enough to dislodge what was obstructing her lungs.

"Jack _Sparrow_?" Carolyn wheezed, her eyes watering. Hadn't Jack said so many years ago that he and Carolyn would someday be 'Jack and Carolyn _Sparrow_?' Of course, he had been drunk at the time, but it was too uncanny to be a coincidence.

"Aye. D'you know him?"

"Did…did he once go by Teague, 'stead of Sparrow?" Carolyn asked urgently.

"How should I know? Pirates sometimes change their names, so maybe," Anamaria said with a shrug.

"What's he look like?"

"A wanker, that's what."

"I'm serious."

"I don't know…probably two meters tall, wears his hair in dreadlocks. Beard's braided in two, full of tattoos," Anamaria said. "That sound familiar?"

"Despite the fact that you've just described half the pirates floating in the ocean, I'd say it does…," Carolyn said faintly. Had she narrowly missed Jack by only a few days? "If we're talking about the same person, I've been looking everywhere for him for the last twelve years."

"_Why_?" Anamaria asked, looking disgusted.

"Why's got nothin' to do with it. When did he leave and where was he going?"

"He left the day before yesterday," Anamaria said, still looking bewildered.

"I have to go, then," Carolyn said, setting down her rum on the crooked coffee table as she got to her feet. "Which way was he going?"

"I have no idea," Anamaria said. "You'll have better luck finding him if you stay here for a while."

"How's that?"

"He stops here once every few months. Few years ago he even brought a whole crew into the pub, said he was _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. Maybe they threw him overboard, cos this time he didn't have his big stupid ship with him," Anamaria said spitefully. Carolyn paused and considered the situation: stay in Tortuga with one of the best friends she'd ever had, waiting for Jack to make port…or continue sailing aimlessly across the seven seas looking for him. The former seemed a bit more logical than the latter.

"I suppose I'll stay," Carolyn said as she flopped back down onto the couch. Now that she had this vital piece of information, she was prepared to wait for as long as it took for Jack to come bobbing back into Tortuga.

* * *

**Author's Note (again…): Now that the long-ass prologue is posted, we've decided that in order to keep the story near the top of the pile and to generally pique your enthusiasm, we will be posting one chapter per week. So keep your eyes peeled…**


	5. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The Sacking of **_**La Bonita**_** and the Events that Followed**

Olivia's stomach felt like it was being ripped apart as she hung over the side of _La Bonita. _The last three days of the journey to the ship's second stop had been rough to say the least. The winds that buffeted the boat were near gale force and enormous rouge waves made the ship tip from side to side. Olivia had never experienced such seasickness in her life and almost wished she was back home trapped in the house she had grown up in taking care of her ailing mother.

"_Qué paso, señorita?_" roared Captain Gomez over the raging wind as he approached Olivia. Over the last few weeks, she had been able to pick up little snatches of Spanish and she was accustomed to being addressed with fairly simple Spanish sentences.

"Just seasick," groaned Olivia.

"It's going to rain soon," he said, looking up at the sky. "Perhaps you would be more comfortable below deck, eh?"

"Maybe," Olivia mumbled.

"Yes, I think you should lie down. You wouldn't want to catch cold and be seasick at the same time," he said thoughtfully.

"That's true enough," she agreed. "If any ships come along, let me know, won't yeh?"

"You'll be the first to know should I see one," Gomez said with a fatherly smile. Olivia teetered toward the stairs that led below deck, the ship rocking beneath her feet. She stumbled down the stairs and took refuge in her hammock, which swung with the motion of the ship.

"This isn't helping…," she muttered to herself in the dim crew's quarters as she hiccupped. The last thing she wanted to do was vomit where everyone slept. A man did the same thing the week before and even though Olivia couldn't understand everything that was being said, she could tell that the other men were giving him hell about it for four days. She couldn't blame them, of course, it was absolutely disgusting. Her stomach churned painfully and she tried to stray from thoughts of vomiting.

Some time later, Olivia awoke to shouting and the sounds of frantic boots on the decks above. She hadn't even noticed that she had fallen asleep until she woke up. Her seasickness seemed to have subsided for the moment, but now in its place was pure dread. These panicked sounds issuing from above her head reminded her very much of the pirate raid she went through so many years ago. Without warning, the cannons on the deck above her discharged, causing Olivia's hands to reflexively cover her ears. There was no doubt about it now: the ship was under attack.

Not willing to just sit in a hammock and wait for whatever was coming, Olivia freed herself of her makeshift bed and made her way up to the gun deck where the crew was scrambling about, trying to reload the cannons. Olivia got just a tiny glimpse out one of the small windows the cannons stuck out of, of the side of a black ship when the opposing forces sent a volley of their own cannon balls. The projectiles tore through the gun deck, taking several sailors down with them and causing Olivia to dive to the floor. When she looked up and out the hole that had been blasted in _La Bonita_, she could clearly see a black ship with black sails through a sheet of heavy rain.

"_Usted no debe estar aquí, señorita_!" said one of the deckhands as he pulled Olivia's thin, lanky frame to her feet. Her meager collection of Spanish words did not provide much help in translating this, but she could tell that he didn't want her there. He ushered her down to the crew's quarters while rattling off a constant string of indiscernible Spanish commands. Olivia tried to protest, but he ran back up the stairs when she was finally out of harm's way.

Olivia rung her long fingers and bit her lip as the chaos intensified above her. It ate at her that she was cowering like a dog in the bottom of the ship. She should be helping the crew somehow, though she wasn't sure how her presence would be of any assistance. The cannon fire finally stopped, but now she could hear gunshots and the clash of swords. This could only mean one thing: they had been boarded. It was only a matter of time before the fight worked its way down towards her, and she could not take the suspense any longer. She had to do _something_. Just as she began climbing the wooden stairs to the decks above, she realized that she had no means of protecting herself. She needed a sword or a pistol, but she knew very well that she had no experience with either.

"What do I do?" she whispered to herself frantically as climbed back down the stairs. Even if she were to hide and their attackers missed her as they pillaged the ship, she had no idea how to man a boat by herself and there was no hope of being able to make port alone. Not to mention that the boat was very likely to sink now that it boasted a few healthy holes in the weather they were entering. Before she was able to come up with a cohesive plan, she heard the sound of boots pounding down the stairs and the hysterical laughter and shouts of pirates. Olivia backed away from the stairs, but did not turn to hide. If she was going to be killed, she did not want to be surprised when it happened; she wanted to see it coming.

Finally, when it seemed apparent that the crew had been silenced, the pirates thundered down the last flight of stairs and spilled into the crew's quarters where Olivia stood rooted to the spot.

"What's this?" one of them asked with amusement when he and his comrades laid eyes on her. The top of his head was completely bald and the hair he had left was long and scraggly.

"That's a girl, that is," said the man closest to him. He was very thin with straw colored hair and a rotting smile.

"What should we do with her, lads?" asked another of the pirates with a short beard and a tan knit hat that clung tightly to his head.

"I say we leave 'er 'ere and take what we came for," said an African man with an impressive head of dreadlocks.

"She'll die, then, eh? Bit of a waste," said a man wielding a large grappling hook. "She's kinda pretty, inn'she?" There was a murmur of general agreement among the pirates, but Olivia stared all of them down with a stony expression.

"Pretty brave for a girl. No tears. 'Fraid to die, are you?" asked the portly balding man who had first spoke. He grinned widely and stuck his pistol up against her jaw line and waited for a reaction.

"Hate to break it to yeh, but I've had a gun pointed in my face by a pirate before," Olivia said. Her expression made her seem unaffected by the presence of the pirates, but her heart was racing uncomfortably in her chest.

"Fiesty!" commented one of the men towards the back of the group as a murmur of laughter rang through the throng.

"Let's get dis over with," said an enormous African man with a deep voice. He seemed more than impatient.

"Why don't we bring 'er to the Captain?" suggested the blond pirate. Olivia noticed in the dim light that one of his eyes was false.

"De Captain didn't say anything about captives," the impatient African said sternly.

"And what use would he have of her?" asked the man with the knit hat.

"Well, if he don't like her, we can throw her off, can't we? Won't be any better or worse off than she were before," the balding man pointed out. The pirates looked to the hulking African man for a final decision. He rolled his eyes and grunted in indifference.

"Fine. You two deal wit her," he growled, pointing to the balding man and his blond, skinny accomplice.

"Right this way, miss," said the balding pirate, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he and the man with the wooden eye each took on of her elbows and lead her up to the main deck. Rain instantly soaked Olivia's dress through to the skin as she tip-toed through the bodies of the crew that littered the deck, including Captain Gomez. Olivia looked away from his lifeless body and shook off an involuntary shiver. She felt the familiar sting of tears hit her eyes, but as always, the memories of Carolyn Marshall's scathing comments stopped the tears in their tracks. The black pirate ship was so close to _La Bonita_ that all Olivia had to do was step from railing to railing to board the ship. The two men muscled her to a pair of elaborate doors below the upper deck where the wheel was being manned by a manic looking pirate with blond dreadlocks. The balding man knocked politely at the doors.

"What is it?" snapped a male voice from behind the doors.

"A present for you, Captain," the one-eyed pirate said, amusement in his voice. Olivia was scared out of her mind of what would come next, but she kept a straight face. The sound of heavy footfalls preceded the double doors flying open, revealing a man with a sun aged face, a wavy, scraggly beard and skeptical blue eyes, the whites of which were yellowing slightly. He looked Olivia up and down before his lip curled, exposing brownish teeth.

"What is this?" the Captain snarled.

"She was onboard," the blond pirate said hesitantly.

"We weren't sure what to do wiv 'er, so we thought maybe you'd like a little _company_, if you get my meanin'," the bald pirate said suggestively.

"I never said anything about captives, nor about findin' me gifts of any kind. Now get back on that ship and search for that medallion!" the Captain barked.

"What should we do wiv…"

"Back on the ship!" the Captain growled. The two pirates scurried back onto _La Bonita_, leaving Olivia standing in front of the Captain, alone. He raised an eyebrow as if daring her to speak. So she did.

"If yeh could just drop me off next time yeh make port, I won't be any trouble t' yeh," Olivia said, making sure her voice didn't waver with the fear that was boiling inside of her.

"Make _port_?" scoffed the Captain with a little smirk. "This is a pirate ship, missy. The only time we make port is when we plan on plunderin'."

"Yer going to kill me, aren't you? What's the difference of letting me off during one of yer raids only to be caught in the crossfire than to shoot me right here?" Olivia asked. The Captain quirked an eyebrow at the seemingly fearless woman before him; he wasn't sure what to make of her.

"What's your name, girl?" he asked.

"What does it matter if yer going to kill me anyway?" Olivia asked defiantly.

"Humor me," the Captain said with a little sneer.

"Olivia," she answered after a pause. "And yours?"

"What does it matter if I'm going to kill you anyway?" he returned with raised eyebrows, looking obviously amused. He chuckled at her deadpan expression. "Captain Barbossa is what you'll be referrin' to me as on this ship."

"Assuming yeh don't put a bullet in my skull," Olivia said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Of course," Barbossa said with a snide smile. There was a lull in their tense conversation in which the rain began to pound harder on the deck of the ship as well as on an already drenched Olivia. "Why don't you come in out of the rain?"

"Thanks, I'd rather not bloody up yer nice cabin," Olivia said flatly.

"I'll make you a deal, then, as you don't seem to be easily persuaded," Barbossa said, now leaning against the doorjamb. "You come inside tonight and I'll kill you tomorrow."

"Want me dry before yeh shoot me, then?" Olivia asked.

"Exactly," Barbossa said with a less than genuine smile. He made a welcoming gesture with his arms toward the cabin's interior and Olivia stepped inside cautiously. The cabin was elaborately kept. There was a large table for dining toward the middle of the room but currently it was heavily laden with maps of all sizes. Candelabras and lamps lit the room with a yellowish glow. There was also a large bed that was perfectly made and looked as though it had not been touched for years and a small desk to one side. Barbossa shut the doors of the cabin behind Olivia before offering her a seat at the table. She took it and felt rain water squish out from under her soaked skirt. Barbossa sat down at another one of the immaculate chairs and looked her over again. Olivia ignored him as she glanced at the maps.

"Looking fer something, then?" she asked, nodding at the maps.

"As a matter of fact, I am," he replied as he picked up a drafting compass and fiddled around with it casually.

"What exactly?"

"'What exactly' is no concern of yours," he told her.

"A medallion?" Olivia persisted. Barbossa's lips twitched in half a grin, which Olivia took as a yes. "Must fetch a large price for yeh to sack ships looking fer it..."

"Actually, the medallion I'm looking for is priceless," Barbossa replied, tossing the metal instrument back onto the table. Just then, a capuchin monkey dressed in very small replicas of human clothing jumped with a shrill screech onto Barbossa's shoulder. Olivia jumped in surprise. "Don't let him scare you. He's harmless," Barbossa said as he stroked the monkey's head affectionately.

"Monkey's don't scare me," Olivia said.

"Neither do bloodthirsty pirates, it seems," Barbossa said with an amused little smile. His eyes roved over her soaking wet frame again, which was starting to anger Olivia. "What would you prefer: somethin' dry to sleep in or staying in that wet rag for the night?"

"It's not a rag, it's a dress," Olivia snapped. It was one of the only articles of clothing she owned recently and it was, to say the least, a little tattered.

"Either way, it's wet," Barbossa retorted. Olivia mulled over the situation. It seemed to her that if Barbossa was planning to kill her, he'd have done it already. Although he was filthy from head to foot, it did not stop him from exuding a cunning intelligence: she did not want to cross him but, simultaneously, she did not want to back down and have him think her weak or fearful.

"What dry clothing do yeh have that would suit a woman?" Olivia asked.

"Well, there's the trouble," Barbossa said as he got up and paced slowly over to her so that his frame was looming over her. "I don't have any clothes that would suit a woman."

"I'd rather be wet than naked."

"Aye, so would I," Barbossa chuckled. "But that's not what I meant." He strode over to a tall, slender wardrobe, the monkey clinging expertly to his shoulder. He opened the wardrobe, revealing hangers of unworn white shirts and vests. "Unfortunately, all I've got is my own clothes, but you're welcome to them while your…_dress_ dries out."

"Interesting, I've never heard of a hospitable pirate…," Olivia said as she rose from the now very moist chair.

"Don't get too comfortable, missy. After all, by tomorrow you'll be dead," he said with wide eyes and a little smile. Olivia retrieved a large, billowy shirt with ruffled cuffs and a pair of brown breeches from one of the drawers. Barbossa left the room under the excuse that he had to check on the crew, but Olivia had a feeling that he meant to be discreet while she changed out of her wet clothes. Now that she was alone in the cabin and she was able to take a deep breath and shake off the terror she had felt in the face of the pirates, sadness filled her for the lost crew, especially for Captain Gomez. He had treated her so well and had tried his best to help her find Jack and Carolyn. Now that she had been captured by pirates, she wasn't sure how she was supposed to find them or even how she was going to return home. _The point is that you're alive_, she reminded herself. _Your chances of finding Jack and Carolyn are much better if you're alive._ She had no idea if Barbossa was just playing with her or if he truly intended on killing her in the morning, but for the moment, she had to hope that she remained alive long enough to at least see her mother again.

* * *

Barbossa only returned to the cabin when all of _La Bonita_'s valuables were stowed in the cargo hold below deck and his crew was back on board. He was soaking wet but did not make any effort to dry himself off. Olivia sat where she had during their first conversation, her posture rigid and her expression unyielding. Barbossa strode over and sat back down before the myriad of maps on the table and gave Olivia an appraising look. 

"I still can't believe that you aren't scared out of your wits. You did just get captured by pirates who murdered the crew of the ship you were on," he said after a long period of silence as he slumped back casually in his chair and scratched at his chin beneath his wet beard. Olivia shrugged vaguely, unwilling to give him a definitive answer. "Why were ya on that merchant ship, anyway?"

"It's really none of yer business, is it?"

"You pried into my business, now's my chance to return the favor," he said almost darkly. "Why were ya on that ship?" Olivia's teeth gritted together in irritation behind her serene lips as she tried to think of a noncommittal way of answering the Captain's question.

"I was just a passenger," she said simply.

"Is that so? Where were ya goin'?" he asked.

"I don't see how that's of any relevance to yeh," Olivia said calmly.

"I'll decide what's relevant and what's not on my ship," he said, his voice rising a bit. Then he seemed to calm himself and he flashed her a little grin. In a tone that mocked sweetness, he continued. "Miss Olivia, where exactly were ya goin'?" Olivia sighed, knowing that she wasn't going to get out of answering after all.

"I'm looking for someone…two someone's, actually. The Captain of _La Bonita_ was an acquaintance of mine and he agreed t' help me," she explained.

"Ah ha, and who might these two someone's be?" he asked.

"If I recall correctly, Captain Barbossa, yeh avoided my questions when they became too personal fer comfort, so I think yer period of prying is officially over," Olivia said frankly. She thought that this remark might make him angry, but he only chuckled slightly.

"It'll have to be a conversation for another day, then," he said, amused by the younger woman's gumption. "Tired, are you?"

"I can't think of a time in my life when I was less tired," she said flatly.

"Well, I'm sure you'll sleep a little more soundly in Davy Jones' locker tomorrow mornin' at any rate," he said. Olivia thought she could detect a hint of teasing in his voice, but she did not want to place all her hope upon the possibility that this could all be one big joke to the eccentric pirate. "Even if you don't sleep, you're welcome to the bed."

"Yeh seem like a lovely man, Captain Barbossa, but I don't think I want to share a bed with yeh," Olivia said sarcastically.

"Lucky for you, Miss Olivia, I don't sleep," he said cryptically, his eyes widening at the word 'sleep.' "There'll be only one body in those sheets and it'll be yours." Olivia breathed a subtle sigh of relief. The thought of spending the night next to a dirty pirate that was at least fifteen years her senior was unsettling at best. Rather than sitting at the table watching Barbossa comb over maps, Olivia resigned herself to the very dusty bed. The sheets beneath the old blanket had the musty smell of something shut up in a closet for a very long time, but the mattress was not uncomfortable. Barbossa watched her out of the corner of his eye as he crossed something out on one of the maps with an ostrich feather quill. Just as Olivia rolled over to put her back to Barbossa, his pet monkey swung down from somewhere above their heads and leapt nimbly onto the bed. Olivia sat bolt upright and gasped.

"Not afraid of monkeys, eh?" Barbossa said with a smirk.

"He only surprised me," Olivia said defensively. The monkey crawled up onto her lap and began tugging at her long, sandy blonde hair inquisitively. Olivia reached out with a hesitant hand and gave the monkey a pat on the head. "What do you call him?"

"Jack…," Barbossa said, the single syllable drawn out into nearly a sigh. The name startled Olivia a little.

"I had a friend once named Jack," she said as she pet the monkey's soft head. He seemed to take an instant liking to her and climbed up onto her shoulder where he picked through her long hair more intently.

"He's named for an idiot we marooned called Jack," Barbossa said.

"Why'd yeh maroon him?"

"I'm a pirate, missy. If I want something, I take it. And I wanted his ship," he said, turning back in his chair to face her with a mischievous grin. "Being _Captain_ Barbossa isn't so bad, either."

"Yeh marooned yer captain?"

"I did."

"Where is he now?"

"He's likely still on that island, rotting in the sun," he said, turning back to his maps.

"How compassionate of yeh," Olivia scoffed as Jack the monkey hopped down from his perch on her shoulder and bounded across the room to his master.

"I do what I can," Barbossa said. That was the last thing out of him for the rest of the night. Olivia pulled the covers up over her shoulders and lay there staring up at the moth-eaten canopy of the bed wondering with anxiety in her belly what would happen in the morning.

* * *

Author's Note: So, how do you like it so far? Please review, we'd love to know what you think! Constructive criticism is welcome, but please no unnecessary flames... 


	6. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Alright, I know we said we'd post once a week, but we've been busy, so sorry for that if you've been waiting for more. Also, we'd really like to hear what you think! We're thrilled to see how many hits the story's gotten so far, but we'd like to here from you personally, so let us know how you feel about our story:) **

**Chapter Three: Captain Barbossa and His Curse**

The boat pitched forward as it crested an enormous wave, jarring Olivia out of a dreamless sleep. She sat upright and found that she was alone in the cabin. Rain battered the ship so loudly that it sounded like it might come through the ceiling any second. A quick glance at an antique grandfather clock told Olivia that it was already 11:00 in the morning and there was a platter of food waiting on the table. She sat there stunned. Was this her last meal before she was dumped overboard? Or was this another instance of Captain Barbossa's inexplicable hospitality?With no way of knowing, she put her pillow-mussed hair into a loose braid and got up to look out one of the portholes. It was difficult to see anything past the rain, but as far as she could tell, they were in the middle of the Caribbean with no land in sight. Should she be thrown overboard here, there would be absolutely no hope of survival.

A few minutes later, Barbossa threw open the doors of the cabin in his usual fashion, causing Olivia to jump in surprise. He was soaked to the bone again, but it didn't look like he cared.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

"Surprisingly, yes," Olivia admitted. She held her ground near the porthole, wanting to put as much distance between her and the pirate as possible.

"If memory serves, that bed, there, is one of the most comfortable I've ever slept on. But it's been a long time, so forgive me if I'm wrong," he said, a note of bitterness cropping up in his tone. Olivia had no idea what he meant by that, but at the moment, what mattered was whether she would live to see the evening. "Didja have anything to eat?"

"That's for me, then?" she asked, gesturing to the platter.

"If you want it," he said with an indifferent shrug.

"Thank yeh, but I'm not hungry," Olivia said just as her stomach gave a growl that could be heard even over the pounding rain and the crashing waves.

"That so?" Barbossa said with a little laugh. "Why don't you sit down and have a little breakfast?"

"Will you be killing me during or after breakfast?" Olivia asked sardonically.

"Apologies, missy, but I'm far too busy today for an execution. Tomorrow, perhaps," he said as he sat down at the table. Olivia thought this over as Barbossa double checked their bearings on one of the maps. He was toying with her after all, it seemed. However, there was still a great possibility of him changing his mind on a whim. She would have to be careful.

Olivia took her seat at the table and looked over the selection: bread, butter, an apple and tea in a large mug. Now that she was close and could smell it, the hunger pains in her stomach became exponentially worse. She grabbed the apple and took an enormous bite out of it to Barbossa's apparent satisfaction.

"How is it?" he asked, a strange look of nostalgia coming over his face.

"Good," she said through a mouthful of apple. She took a sip of strong English tea to wash it down.

"I do miss that taste…," he said, sounding disappointed. Olivia paused for a moment, confused, before she offered the rest of the apple to him. He shook his head and continued to plot their course on the map.

"So yeh don't sleep," she said as she tore into the bread and butter. "Yeh don't eat. Ever?"

"'Fraid so," he said, the witty repartee completely extinguished from his voice.

"That's stupid," she said bluntly. His eyes flashed at her in annoyance.

"Why, exactly, is that stupid?" he asked with irritation.

"Yeh'd be dead by now if yeh haven't eaten or slept for…how long?"

"Ten years," he replied bitterly.

"See, yeh'd be dead," she assured him.

"Whoever said I'm not?" he asked her in all seriousness.

"I say yer not. Yer sitting right there. Yer breathing, yer existing," she said, gesturing at him.

"Existing and living are two very different things, Miss Olivia. Don't forget that," he said sternly.

"So yeh exist…but yer dead," she said skeptically. She could tell Barbossa was becoming incredibly frustrated. He put down his quill, leaned back in his chair and sighed. Then he looked at her with a distant little smile.

"How d'ya like ghost stories, Miss Olivia?" he asked with his characteristic mock-sweetness.

"As much as the next person, I suppose…," she said hesitantly. She wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"Well, then, get comfortable and brace yerself, because this ghost story's true," he said wryly. "Ya know by now that I've been looking for a medallion. Turns out it's one of many that we found ten years ago. Have you ever heard of the Isla de Muerta?"

"Island of the Dead? No," she said.

"I see you know a little Spanish," he said, amused. "That's good, I won't have to be translatin' it for ya. Ten years ago, I was first mate of this very ship and me and my crew were sailing under Jack Sparrow's colors. The Captain announces that we were off in search of a treasure on an island that no one can find, save for those who already know where it is. He knew where it was and says that once we find the treasure, it's equal shares for all of us. I dunno how much you know about pirates, miss, but we generally take more if we can. So, I tells him one day if we all get equal shares of the treasure, we should all know its location as well. Captain found it fair, so he told us. Problem with me, Miss Olivia, I'm greedy: I wanted more of that treasure for myself and I wanted to get us there myself."

"So you marooned him," Olivia remembered.

"Exactly. We marooned him and carried on to the Isla de Muerta. The treasure was there, just as Jack said: eight hundred and eighty two pieces of pure Aztec gold. We took 'em all and celebrated our new fortune by trading 'em for food, drink and women. We'd heard the tale before goin' there, of course, but we never suspected that the curse on the gold is as real as the shirt on your back."

"A curse?" Olivia asked skeptically with a raised eyebrow. "Might I remind yeh, Captain Barbossa, that I'll be thirty-one on my next birthday."

"Aye. There be no question about your intelligence, Miss Olivia," he said, holding up a hand. "The gold pieces weren't cast for no reason, you see. It was blood money, sent to Cortés to put a stop to his killin'. And as we gave away the gold, the curse started to take effect. Try as I might, I couldn't sleep. All the food that I ate became ash in my mouth. My thirst could not be quenched by drink and pleasurable company." There was a sadness in his eyes that took Olivia by surprise. "It's the same for us all. We are not among the living, so we cannot die, but neither are we dead."

"But yeh aren't dead, yer sitting right there!" Olivia protested.

"Only under the moon's light are we shown for what we really are. Thanks to this storm, ye haven't had to see it. But you will," he assured her grimly.

"Assuming that this is all true, how do yeh plan to make it stop?" Olivia asked.

"All eight-hundred and eighty two pieces of Cortés' gold must be returned to the Isla de Muerta, the blood repaid if the curse is to be lifted. If not, we'll spend the rest of eternity as cursed men."

"How many more do you have to find?" she asked.

"Just two," he said, looking a little more optimistic. She thought about it for a moment before an idea came into her head. It was a long shot, but it might ensure her long term survival.

"If, perchance, this curse isn't just yer way of trying to scare me…I'll help yeh find the medallions," Olivia said. Barbossa looked taken aback by this proposition.

"Will you, now?" he asked, clearly intrigued. "Have a mind to turn pirate, do ye?"

"No," she said resolutely. "I just don't see the fairness in letting men go cursed for eternity. Pirate or not, it's cruel."

"Well said," Barbossa said with a nod. "As much as I doubt you'll be able to help, I'll certainly let ye try. That is, if I don't kill ye first."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Captain Barbossa bade Olivia goodnight with the daily promise of her death in the morning which, thankfully, never came. She got to know the pirates aboard the ship by face if not by name. Some of them she had no intention of getting to know any better, especially the Bo'sun who was irritable and above all, malicious. The two pirates that had hauled her off _La Bonita_ formally introduced themselves as Pintel and Ragetti. They were an interesting pair that seemed to aggravate the rest of the crew on a daily basis, but they had grown on Olivia and she thought them quite comical. If she talked to anyone else but Barbossa, it was them.

The bad weather was beginning to clear up finally and eventually, there was a cloudless night where the moon shone bright over the sea. Olivia had all but forgotten the part of Barbossa's story that involved the moon revealing their curse, which made for a terrifying shock when she emerged from the cabin. For the first time in twenty years, Olivia Yeisley shrieked in fear at the sight of the entire undead crew. Their decomposing flesh was hanging off their exposed skeletons and their clothes were tattered and rotten. The most unnerving sight, by far, was Barbossa himself, his face skeletal and gaunt. Her scream attracted his attention, along with most of the men on deck.

"Olivia!" he called as she bolted back into his cabin. Frustrated and concerned, he hurried after her. As soon as he stepped out of the moonlight, his appearance reverted back to that of a whole human being. At first he couldn't see where she had gone, but upon further inspection of the room, he found her cowering in a corner with wide eyes. She was shaking and her breathing was ragged. Barbossa sunk down on one knee, took her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held fast.

"Calm yerself!" he told her sternly.

"It's real…it's true," she panted. "The curse…you're dead."

"Undead is probably the best word for it," he corrected with a shadow of a smile as he loosened his grip on her. "It can't harm you, though, so there's no need to be frightened." Olivia gave him a judgmental stare as she poked his face with her index finger to his mild amusement. Finding it to be quite solid, she took a deep breath and gained control of herself. "I'm sorry ye had to see that," Barbossa said sincerely.

"It's alright…," she said, trying to shake off the goosebumps that had risen on her skin. "I just…wasn't prepared for it, is all…"

"It's enough to scare even the bravest of men," he said as he got to his feet. He held a long-nailed hand out to her. Olivia took it and he pulled her to her feet.

"Forgive me, I'm not usually so…I try to avoid emotional outbursts. They're a sign of weakness," she explained, feeling embarrassed.

"Ye aren't weak," he assured her. "If ye want to stay inside, I can understand it, but I have business on the deck."

"Alright," she said.

"Good night, missy. I'll kill ye in the morning," he promised with a devious little grin as he left the cabin.


	7. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Olivia vs. the Militia Men of Antigua**

For the first time in weeks, land could be seen off the starboard side of the ship. Olivia, who had finally overcome her occasional ship-related bouts of illness, surveyed the island in the distance.

"What's that island, there?" she asked Barbossa as he came up behind her.

"That be Antigua," he answered, sounding confident.

"Are we making port?" she wondered, looking over her shoulder at him.

"In a manner a speakin'," he said slyly. "That be the island where one o' the last medallions is hidden. I thought that ship you were on mighta been carryin' it, but I was mistaken. There's no doubt in my mind that it's on that island."

"How do yeh know where exactly they are? Yeh may have traded it there, but who's to say someone hasn't traded it for 1orning1g' else? Maybe it's not actually on the island anymore. Maybe it's on another merchant vessel," Olivia pointed out.

"Ah, I suppose I've left that part out," he said as he leaned against the railing beside her. "Whenever we get close to one of the cursed pieces of gold, it calls to us. We can feel it in our bones. They want to be found, y' see," he said in a mysterious voice.

"Intriguing," Olivia said flatly.

"Aye," he sighed as he gazed across the water at the island.

"Anything I can do to help?" she asked.

"You can keep your pretty feet solidly planted on the deck," he said decidedly. "Pirate raid's no place for a woman."

"I've been in one, yeh know," Olivia told him. "It doesn't scare me."

"It should," he said bluntly. "You'd be in considerably more danger than us, as we're undead and you're still warm and fleshy."

"Think I'm fragile, do yeh?" Olivia challenged with a smirk.

"Ya haven't a piratin' bone in yer tall, skinny body, lass," he said with a chuckle. "Besides, if anyone shoots you dead, it'll be me."

The Black Pearl lingered off shore at a substantial distance, waiting for the sun to disappear beyond the horizon. Barbossa felt that the crew was at its most fearsome when the moon was shining on them. Olivia couldn't argue with that. The sight of the men with their flesh rotting off their exposed skeletons still gave her the collywobbles.

As soon as the moon was high in the clear night sky, Barbossa, now frightening and skeletal, steered his ship towards their target: a large port town with a wharf protruding out into the water. Some small ships were tied to the dock, but they were nothing worth taking a second glance at. Olivia looked on as some of the men scurried down to the gun deck. Within moments, Barbossa ordered a barrage of cannon fire toward the port. The cannon balls penetrated the edifices of a few buildings, crumbling roofs and destroying walls. The rowboats were made ready to board just as the local militia assembled at the dock. Some held long rifles with bayonets attached to the end while others held pistols and cutlasses. After the _Black Pearl_ ceased fire on the port, the men piled into the boats and lowered themselves into the water. Unlike the sacking of _La Bonita_, Barbossa climbed into the last boat to participate in the raid, leaving the Bo'sun behind to keep an eye on the ship. As the crew rowed toward the beach, the militia opened fire on them. Many of the bullets struck home, but as the men could not be injured or killed, the projectiles had no affect whatsoever. Olivia could see the courage of the militia men waning as the pirates came closer and closer despite their constant fire. Even though Olivia knew that the men were indestructible, seeing them get shot over and over again sparked the urge within her to help and protect. She remembered this feeling from the last pirate raid and she knew that to even entertain the idea of rushing into battle with no weapons was foolish. However, she had a difficult time quelling the need to swim after them and join the fray.

Olivia watched the Bo'sun carefully out of the corner of her eye: his gaze was fixed on the rest of the crew, who had now set foot on the beach and were tearing up the streets, terrorizing the town as they went. The majority of the militia that had assembled at the dock were now chasing after the crew, some of them had already been shot dead by the skeletal pirates. The few that remained nearest the dock had climbed aboard one of the smaller ships and began rowing toward the_Pearl_. When they were in deep enough water, the sails were unfurled, sending them straight toward the ghostly ship faster than Olivia had anticipated. The Bo'sun did not look at all concerned for his safety, or for Olivia's. It had been made abundantly clear to her in the weeks that had gone by that this formidable man felt no remorse for any loss of life, man, woman or child. She could not hope that he would make an exception for her.

As the smaller ship prepared to broadside the _Pearl_, Olivia dashed into Barbossa's cabin. She had noticed on several occasions a pair of cutlasses mounted on the wall as decoration. Ornaments or not, they were still sharp and they could still do her some good if the militia men found a way onto the ship. She went straight for the more impressive of the two, whose gold handle was not as tarnished as the other and whose blade had not yet been chipped. Her first attempt to wrench the weapon off the wall was unsuccessful. However, after a few firm yanks, it tore away from its plaque, the sudden release knocking Olivia onto her hindquarters. Scrambling to her feet, the sword in hand, she ran back out onto the deck. She could hear the militia men jeering and firing shots at the Bo'sun, who seemed at the very least annoyed. It was only now that Olivia realized that she had traded in Barbossa's clothes for her own dress the day before; how idiotic she must look, halfheartedly wielding a sword in a dress. Her wardrobe decisions aside, she peered over the edge of the ship and looked down on the smaller vessel just in time to see the lot of them fling grappling hooks up onto the railings of the _Black Pearl_. She backed away just in time as one of the grapples nearly grazed the side of her face on its way down to the deck at her feet. In one of the most intimidating gestures she had ever witnessed, the Bo'sun drew his sword and grunted, his decaying lip curling menacingly.

The militia men climbed up the ropes that were attached to the grapples and hoisted themselves over the railing of the _Pearl_'s deck. The Bo'sun made short work of most of them, running them through ruthlessly with his blade. One of the men noticed Olivia standing at the ready, sword in hand and a snarl on her face. He nudged one of his fellows and pointed at her and the two of them got a hearty laugh. Anger burned through her veins as she stormed toward them, preparing herself to stick them with her cutlass. The first gave another bark of a laugh and in one swift movement, he tripped Olivia, sending her sprawling onto the deck. The second one grinned, cocked a pistol and took aim.

"This'll teach ya, pirate wench," he said, firing. Olivia tried to move out of the way, but she felt the round bullet pierce the flesh in her shoulder. She cried out in pain and made an effort to scoot away from her antagonists, but her skirts were getting tangled in her legs. She tried to raise her sword, but as her hand closed over the handle, the wound in her shoulder seared with pain. The cutlass clattered to the wooden planks beneath her and as the two of them descended on her, the Bo'sun sliced a pair of deep cuts into the backs of their necks. They fell simultaneously at his feet. He looked at Olivia, whose shoulder was bleeding freely, and rolled his eyes at her before picking up the collapsed militia men and heaving them into the black, glassy water below. After he disposed of the other five bodies that littered the deck, he resumed his post at the wheel, not bothering to help Olivia. She managed to lean herself against the outer wall of Barbossa's cabin as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to slow down her panicked, ragged breaths. What would happen if she died, just sitting there on the deck? What would Barbossa do when he saw her lifeless body propped up in a pool of blood? Was her wound even severe enough to kill her? As these questions and more swam through her head, she began to feel dizzy and ill. The only thing to do was to wait until Barbossa got back.

* * *

It seemed like hours and the noises around her echoed and felt distant. Whenever she chose to open her eyes, everything around her was out of focus. She saw movement over the side of the ship as the rowboats were hoisted up far enough for the crew to board the ship. A familiar sound echoed in her ears a few times before she recognized it as her own name.

"Olivia!" the voice bellowed as Barbossa's face swam into view. His features were human as they were both in the shadow of the captain's quarters, but the rest of the onlookers were skeletal. Barbossa gripped Olivia by her lower jaw as he lifted her head towards him. She felt her lips quirk to life in a weak grin.

"Did yeh find it?" she asked vaguely.

"_What_?" he spat, looking at her wildly.

"The medallion. Did yeh find it?" The captain missed a beat as he looked at her with disbelief.

"We did," he said after a moment. He looked at the bloodstained sleeve of her dress before ripping it open at the seam.

"Hey…," Olivia protested. Barbossa inspected the wound before grunting impatiently. He rose to his feet and picked her up brusquely.

"What're ye starin' at, ye lowly sacks of chum! Make ready the sails! Run out the sweeps! Get to your positions ye flea-bitten pack of ingrates!" Barbossa shouted to his crew, sending them scurrying all over the deck in fright. While the rest of the crew was busy following orders, Barbossa kicked in his cabin door and set Olivia down so that she was propped against his bed. He shut the double doors roughly and stomped toward her looking furious. He took another appraising glance at the bullet wound in Olivia's now bare shoulder and made a snarling sound. Olivia struggled to stay conscious as Barbossa retrieved a bottle from one of his cabinets. He uncorked it and thrust it at her.

"Drink," he commanded.

"Not thirsty…," Olivia babbled, pushing the bottle away weakly.

"I didn't ask you if you were thirsty. Drink," he said again. This time he put the bottle to her lips and tipped some of the liquid into her mouth. She gagged and choked on it and tried to catch her breath.

"What is that?" she demanded.

"Rum. A pirate's best friend. This is the last time I'm going to tell ye: drink," he said. Once more he tipped the alcohol into her mouth and this time she swallowed. It tasted awful, but she felt a warm sensation deep in her chest as it went down. She downed a few more gulps before Barbossa took the bottle away. He dumped some into her wound, causing her to cry out in pain.

"What was that for?!" she cried angrily.

"Standard procedure in wound dressin', missy," he said. He ripped off the hem of her dress, wadded it up and held it in front of her mouth. "Bite down on this," he said.

"Why?" she asked warily.

"Because this is really going to hurt," he said as he extracted a small, crudely carved knife from his belt. Olivia's eyes widened as Barbossa stuffed the cloth into her mouth and dug the knife into her wound. Had her mouth not been completely full of fabric, the entire crew and probably the inhabitants of the surrounding islands might have heard her scream of agony as Barbossa methodically used his knife as a lever to pry out the bullet from the hole in her shoulder. Olivia's eyes watered and her fingers were clenched in such tight fists that her fingernails dug painfully into her palms. Sweat sprang from every pore in her skin as Barbossa doused the wound again with rum and ripped another length of fabric from her dress before fashioning it into a thick bandage. Olivia's chest heaved and she was dizzy with pain as Barbossa removed the cloth from her mouth. She groaned and tipped her head back so that she could breathe better.

"I hate you," she breathed. Barbossa chuckled as he cleaned off his knife on what was left of the hem of her skirt.

"Ye won't be saying that come morning' and yer still alive," he pointed out.

"That was…the _worst_ pain…I've ever felt…ever," Olivia said weakly. She reached over with her good arm and took up the bottle of rum before taking a few great gulps of it.

"There's a good lass," Barbossa said. "Nothin' dulls pain better than a bottle of rum."

"I've never drank before in my life," she admitted. "I mean, I've been offered rum a few times, but I never drank any."

"Is that so," Barbossa said thoughtfully as he sat down beside her. "We'll have to get ya good and drunk one of these days. A hole like that in yer arm, you'll be beggin' to be drunk tomorrow."

"Think there'll be a scar?"

"I_know_ there'll be a scar. Better a scar than bein' dead," he reminded her. After a moment's silence, Barbossa spoke again. "What did you think you were doin', anyway?"

"How do yeh mean?"

"I told you to stay out of it, and I come back and here you are, bleeding all over the deck of my ship with a sword at yer side. Explain to me exactly how you came to have a sword in your hand when I told ye to stay out of the way."

"I meant to stay out of it, but they came to us…wanted to protect myself, so I got a sword," she mumbled.

"You probably looked like a damn fool wielding a sword in a dress. D'ye think anyone could have taken ya seriously?" he asked incredulously.

"They didn't, they laughed at me," Olivia admitted.

"Of course they did. I would have too. There isn't a single thing about a woman what looks like you that could even come close to being intimidatin'. You have no business with a sword in your hand if you don't know how to use it, either."

"Can yeh spare me the lecture? I've only got a hole in my shoulder the size of a shilling, yeh know…," Olivia said, clearly irritated. Barbossa sighed and shook his head.

"Soon as that arm's healed, I'm going to teach you how to use a sword," he said with a note of determination in his voice. "And you'll be learnin' from the best. There's not a man on this ship that's not afraid of me guttin' 'em like a fish, because they know I could do it before they could blink."

"Impressive," Olivia muttered with a little scoff. Barbossa ignored her.

"I got more swag beneath this deck than you can possibly imagine and it's not all of the sparkly variety. Clothes of every size and gender be mixed in with the rest and we'll find ye something to wear that'll make people think twice about crossin' ye. Haven't you ever wondered why pirates dress like we do?"

"Because it…looks…piratey?" Olivia guessed, feeling groggy as she took another swig of rum. Barbossa's lips twitched, softening his stern expression a little.

"Aye, that be part of it, but mostly so's everyone else knows what they're dealin' with. People look at you and no matter what you're like under that dress, all they see is some stubborn woman with a sword that needs to be shot," he said.

"Bet_you'd_ like to know what I'm like under this dress," Olivia giggled softly. The rum had already worked its way through her empty stomach and into her thin, light-weight frame. Barbossa looked amused. In this state, he knew that no matter what he said, she would never remember it come morning.

"Perhaps when the curse is lifted…," he said as he extracted a gold piece from his inner coat pocket, "you and I will finally be able to get to know each other a little better." He handed her the gold and she examined it with glazed over eyes.

"It's sort of pretty," she said softly as she ran her finger over the Aztec skull in the middle of the coin. She handed it back to him and only dimly noticed how close his face was to hers.

"Only thing pretty about this medallion is that it means there's only one left. And I know who has it."


End file.
